


little girl's got the blues

by FreshBrains



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, F/M, Magic, Multi, POV Multiple, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexuality, Yuletide New Year's Resolutions Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: Kyle smiles, perfect and boyish, a smile that makes Madison’s chest ache in the best way. “Strong in here,” he says, pressing his large palm against Madison’s heart, even though it doesn’t beat anymore. He rubs her chest rhythmically, the motion soothing for all three of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aaronlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this fic as a very, very late treat. I was originally your author for Yuletide 2015, and this fic was finished and sitting in my Word Docs, ready to go. Unfortunately, during the holidays, I had to very suddenly move, and then I got sick, and then it just didn't happen. I was so embarrassed about not gifting it that I just let it sit until now, when I've cleaned it up and decided to post it before this year's Yuletide.
> 
> I hope you can forgive the lateness, and I really hope you enjoy. Happy (Very) Belated Yuletide!

There’s a raw simplicity in the way Madison lets her body create a type of witchcraft that is at the same time light and dark, angelic, like voodoo from the oldest of covens and the angriest of witches. She thinks that’s where her power may have come from—not from all that spite boiling up in her chest, that ambition, that edge that made her something fantastic on the stage and the streets, but from the way she spreads her legs and lowers her eyelids.

 _Come here_ , her body used to say, like a crooked finger, a beckoning croon. Pink petals between her thighs. The juicy gash of her cunt, ripe like mango and grapefruit and tulips, the softness of her breasts, perfectly sized for cupped hands. _Come to me. This is what I’m made for_.

But now, Madison is still Madison, but not the same. Madison 2.0. Madison-once-removed. It recalls some stupid quote Madison always hears in Oscar-bait movies that get a thumbs-up from Ebert— _I put childish things away_ , or some such bullshit.

 _Can children be witches?_ She thinks it to herself one day while she’s sitting on the bottom stair, smoking a tasteless cigarette.

Cordelia pokes her head in from where she’s rustling around in the kitchen. “Maybe,” she says softly, as if she _knows_ Madison wanted to ask but was too afraid, could only ask it in the quiet of her mind to other quiet minds. “But I’ve yet to meet them.” She looks at Madison, eyes soft, a bit sad. “Don’t smoke in the house, please.”

Madison can’t stand her tenderness. She only tolerates tenderness from Zoe and Kyle, and they have their special brands of softness—Zoe’s tinged with a treasured naiveté, Kyle’s intense and raw. So she rolls her eyes, flips Cordelia the bird, and stubs her cigarette out in a potted magnolia.

*

Magic can’t explain them. Zoe tries and fails to make it so, to analyze the ways death and witchcraft intersect, to see if some spark of fire, some mote of dust, could create this current between them.

But Madison just rolls her eyes and smiles. “Trust me,” she says, rolling Zoe over so she’s straddling her on the bed, her hair falling to tickle Zoe’s bare shoulders. “I’ve been doing this _way_ longer than I’ve been doing magic.”

That makes Zoe a little sad, but she tries not to show it. “What if…” she swallows hard, sweat beading on her skin. Madison is radiant above her—the darkness suits her best. The nighttime gives her an aura of danger. “What if this is like before?” _With Charlie, with the frat idiot_ , Zoe thinks, but knows Madison is already a step ahead of her.

“So, what if?” Madison gives her one of those crooked grins that makes Zoe’s stomach clench with excitement. “So what if your Death Vag fucks me into the grave? Been there, done that, not impressed. At least I’ll go out with a literal bang.”

“Madison,” Zoe sighs, frustrated. She moves to shove Madison off her so they can sit up and talk, but instead, Madison gently presses Zoe’s wrists into the pillows. The candles lit around them flare, brightening the room for half a second. If Zoe wanted to get free, she could—easily. “This isn’t a game.”

“Life’s a game,” Madison says breezily. Her hips move a fraction of an inch, the lace of their dresses and skirts creating friction between their bodies. She fixes her eyes on Zoe, and Zoe feels a rush of tenderness—no matter what she says, Madison is _not_ empty, she is _not_ broken.

She is whole, and she is _new_. They brought her back. Zoe isn’t about to forget that.

“Not to me,” Zoe says softly, carding her fingers through Madison’s hair.

Madison bites her lip. Her hips still, though their mutual arousal lingers in the room like a third person. “That’s okay,” she says, with as much softness as Madison Montgomery can muster. “Then we won’t play. Not yet.”

*

Sometimes, Madison and Kyle play, and sometimes, they don’t.

“No,” Kyle says, big hands firm on Madison’s hips. “ _No_.”

Madison doesn’t need to be told twice. She instantly moves her hands away from where they were roaming down Kyle’s back. She looks him in the eye. “Are you okay? I can leave if you want.”

Kyle shakes his head, blond hair shaggy as a Golden Retriever’s. He’s frustrated, hands balled into fists, making noises low in his throat. Though it pains her to say it, Madison asks, “Do you want me to get Zoe?”

“I’m here,” Zoe says, opening the door slowly. It’s their room—all three of them share, now that they’re all of age in all the realms and ways that matter (according to Miss Cordelia). She slides in and stands at the foot of the bed. “Are you guys okay?”

“Just peachy,” Madison grumbles. It isn’t that she’s mad Kyle isn’t in the mood—they’re both technically _dead_ , for chrissakes. It takes a while for things to get warmed up. And besides, Madison isn’t into one-sided sex. No fucking thanks.

“Come here,” Zoe says, and Kyle shifts on the bed to move closer to Zoe. He presses her face against her stomach, nose and mouth smashed against her cashmere sweater, and Zoe scratches her fingers lightly through his hair.

The lights flicker off, then on—too bright—then off again.

“I’m not a bad person,” Madison says into the darkness. She hates how pouty she sounds.

The lights go back on—obviously Zoe’s doing. Zoe is still holding Kyle, but her eyes are on Madison, gentle and hurt. “Why would you say that?”

Madison shrugs, but she knows playing it cool has long become useless with Zoe. “He only goes to you,” she says, reaching over to grab a pack of cigarettes from the night table. “For hugs and kisses and blah, blah, blah. I’m surprised children and puppies don’t tremble in my presence.” She curls up in the pillows, making herself small.

“No,” Kyle says, face still pressed into Zoe’s belly.

Madison raises an eyebrow, looking at Zoe. Zoe just shrugs.

Kyle pulls away, eyes damp and red-rimmed. His hands are clenched in Zoe’s skirt, but he turns to look at Madison, face shy. “Zoe is soft,” he says. “Madison is…”

“Hard?” The word comes out of Madison’s mouth like acid. She can’t hide her sneer.

“Madison is strong,” Kyle says firmly. He reaches out with one hand, fingers trembling. “Scares me. Sometimes.”

Madison frowns, even as she takes Kyle’s hand. “You scare me too, you know,” she says, voice stubborn. “You’re strong in a different way.”

Kyle smiles, perfect and boyish, a smile that makes Madison’s chest ache in the best way. “Strong in here,” he says, pressing his large palm against Madison’s heart, even though it doesn’t beat anymore. He rubs her chest rhythmically, the motion soothing for all three of them.

“He’s right,” Zoe says, and sits down next to Kyle.

For a long time, they just sit, until finally, Zoe turns off the lights.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Tunic (Song for Karen)" by Sonic Youth.


End file.
